Kill Ari (part 1)
by briwd
Summary: Written for NFA's Titular Challenge. In part 1, Abby Sciuto is the target of a practical joke; she initially blames Tim McGee; soon, both discover the real perpetrator. Part 1 of 2 in this story. Both parts will be posted separately in keeping with both stories' titles.


_Today stinks,_ thought Abby Sciuto. She looked at the clock. _5:30 a.m. and I'm here in the lab, not at home asleep._

The lab rat looked down at the evidence from the crime scene the team had worked a few hours earlier; a camera, a bloody high-heeled shoe, an even more bloody wad of $20, $50 and $100 bills, and a gun that looked like it was last used during the Civil War.

 _Well, that what it looks like….I think_. _I'm running on fumes._

She walked by the windows, noted the darkness of the pre-dawn sky over the Navy Yard, then yawned, and stretched. That helped her drowsiness, but just a tiny bit.

Caf!-Pow was what she needed, right now. Fortunately, she had a 64-ounce cup sitting in the lab's fridge. A few drinks, and she'd be back up and running.

Abby slowly walked to the fridge, opened the door, and noted something was off. Taking another look, nothing looked out of place but that thought still nagged at her. She yawned, pulled a tissue out of her jacket and wiped the sleep from her eyes, then went to grab her Caf!-Pow.

It wasn't where she put it the day before. Maybe I misplaced it, she thought, looking through the fridge, before her bleary eyes noticed a grey fuzzy shape on the bottom shelf.

"Bert?! When did I put HIM in here?" she said, reaching down to pull out her stuffed hippo doll.

Abby pulled him out of the fridge, and noticed how cold he was. "Awww. You must have been freezing in there," she said, squeezing the doll. It made its distinct flatulence sound, and Abby smiled.

"THAT sounds normal," she remarked, hugging the doll to her chest.

Then she noticed the sheet of paper scotch-taped to Bert's belly, three words and a number handwritten in ink.

 _Where's Caf Pow?  
555-2679_

"What in the-?" she said, suddenly a bit more awake. Abby looked at the handwriting and the phone number, and while she couldn't quite place the author of the note, the phone number was very familiar.

"McGee?"

Abby grabbed Bert, locked the lab door, and headed to the elevator.

Probationary Agent Tim McGee was the only person in the bullpen at this hour, and he had barely gotten anywhere trying to crack the hard drive taken from the Marine lieutenant's PC.

It was a department store model, with a 56K modem. Nothing at the scene suggested that the victim nor the suspects had any advanced computer skills beyond operating the power button and chatting on the most popular online service. McGee assumed getting into the hard drive's files would be a piece of cake.

Except it wasn't, and the youngest member of Team Gibbs was having a devil of a time with it.

He reached over for the 24-ounce coffee Gibbs left for him, without looking, and felt a familiar hand grasping it tight.

He looked up, and saw Abby's familiar face. This time she wasn't her usual happy self – she looked a little confused, a lot annoyed and a tad bit mad.

"Abs?" he said, thinking it was her lack of sleep. He was a little on edge himself, having gotten just an hour's worth of sleep before Tony called him to tell him Gibbs wanted him and the team at Rock Creek Park ASAP. "I was about to call you. This guy's hard drive is more encrypted than Fort Knox—"

"McGee!" Abby said, hand on one hip, the other holding Bert out towards the agent.

"Abby, what's going on?" McGee replied, wondering what on earth had come over her this time. At least she had taken her hand off his coffee, and he needed the caffeine to think.

She grabbed the coffee from his hand and put it on the desk of the team's most recent member, who worked across from McGee.

"Hey! Why'd you do THAT?" McGee said.

"THIS," she replied, shoving the farting hippo's belly in his face. "And THAT."

She pointed behind his monitor, saying nothing. A few moments later a confused and annoyed McGee stood up from his chair, and saw what the forensic scientist was pointing at: her Caf!-Pow, with some condensation on the large plastic cup.

"What in the—Abs, why is your Caf!-Pow on my desk?" the buzz-haired agent said.

"I. Was going to ask YOU. The same thing," she replied, grabbing her Caf!-Pow and gulping down a third of the drink before continuing. "If you want to play Where's Waldo?, that's fine, but NOT with MY Caf!-Pow!"

McGee looked at her.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, mister?" she insisted, putting out a hand to stop him as he walked from his desk to get his coffee.

"Abs," he said, trying to figure out if this was another of Tony's jokes or if Abby was screwing with him or what. "I didn't take your Caf!-Pow."

"Yes you did, McGee. Admit it. Now tell me why." She ripped off the note and put it on McGee's monitor.

He picked it up, looked at the note, and although the handwriting definitely wasn't his or Tony's – or Abby's – it definitely looked familiar.

"Abby, this isn't my handwriting."

"But that's the number to the phone on your desk."

"Yeah, but it's not my handwriting—" he put up a hand as she began to protest, "—and if you were fully awake, you'd have realized that downstairs."

Abby considered that as she drank another third of the drink, then grabbed the note from McGee and walked to Tony's desk.

"Abs, what are you doing?" McGee asked.

"Trying to solve this mystery," she said, going through DiNozzo's desk drawers. She pulled a letter she found beneath a cold case file folder.

"I didn't know Tony was a junior," she said, comparing his handwriting to the note.

"There's a Tony SENIOR?" McGee said. "Let me see that—"

"Hands OFF, McGee!" Abby said, throwing the letter back in Tony's desk drawer. "That's HIS business. Not ours. Not right now, anyway."

She walked over to Kate's desk. "I know Kate wouldn't write this – HER penmanship is impeccable." Abby found a note of thanks to Agent Cassidy, and a post-it note underneath her keyboard.

"' _HANDS OFF DINOZZO_ '," Abby read the post-it note aloud. "Hmm...I thought she and Tony had been getting more 'hands-on' lately."

McGee grabbed the post-it note from Abby's hand, and put it back under Kate's keyboard.

"What?!"

"That's HER business, Abs, not ours," he said, then glanced back at Tony's desk. "Not right now."

"Another mystery for another time, McGee," Abby said, going over to Gibbs' desk.

"Crap, Abs!" McGee said, worriedly, looking around for any sign of the team leader. "That's Gibbs's DESK!"

"That's right, McGee, and it's been his desk ever since I came to NCIS," she said. "I know he didn't write this note or pull that joke. I just need to check his handwriting against the note—"

"Abby, we're BOTH supposed to be working on the case!" McGee said. "He sees us messing around like this, we're in trouble…one headslap in a week is enough."

Satisfied the ex-Marine didn't write the note, she walked out into the aisle, between Gibbs's desk and the monitor the team used as its murder board. "He won't headslap you over this, McGee."

"Yes he will."

"Even if he does – there's no way you come close to breaking Tony's record."

"You think getting headslapped less than Tony HURTS any less?" McGee said. "He headslapped KATE." Abby raised an eyebrow. "Kate, at the base, during the case with the supermodel. He headslapped Palmer in the morgue, after they brought the severed head in. You and Ducky are the only ones he hasn't headslapped – yet."

"Relax, McGee," Abby said. "If Gibbs walks in, I'll cover for you." She walked over to the newest team member's desk.

"Maybe he'll headslap YOU instead."

"Don't even THINK it, McGee." Abby turned her attention to the desk in front of her, and carefully studied a few pieces of paper, plus a case report, with the man's handwriting on it.

"You know, you still need to go down to autopsy and grab some handwriting samples from Ducky and Palmer," McGee said. "Go up to Director Shepard's office, too. Perhaps her secretary can give you a test sample. Or, go through every desk on this floor and see if you find your culprit—"

"Are you making fun, McGee?" Abby said, comparing the note taped to Bert with samples from the desk in front of her.

"Making fun?—No," he replied. "Joking with you? Most definitely. Come on, we need to get back to work—"

McGee saw Abby's eyes narrow as she finished comparing the handwriting samples.

"Abby?" McGee said. "Abby, HE of all people did NOT do this."

"Oh, McGee. To the contrary. The evidence points right to it. The evidence doesn't lie, McGee. See for yourself."

He took the note taped to Bert, and a case report, and looked at both, then shook his head.

"Come on, Abs," McGee said. "HE is a butt kicker, a trained assassin, a Super Ninja. I'm not sure he even HAS a sense of humor. This…this is all Tony. HAS to be."

"No, McGee," Abby said. "This is NOT Tony. THIS – and THAT" – pointing to the Caf!-Pow on McGee's desk – "is all Ari David."

"Abby, it's WAY too early for this—"

"No, McGee. I don't care if Mossad talked Director Shepard into bringing him here, I don't care if Gibbs trusts him. He does. Not. Take. My. Caf!-Pow." She grabbed her drink. "I. Am. Going. To. KILL. Ari."

McGee stared at her. Then he heard the elevator ding, and frantically began thinking up excuses to cover Abby and himself.


End file.
